


FIC: SOMEWHERE UNDER THE TREES [PART 1]

by BlueDiamondStar



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Songfic, first big bang fic, whitecollarbb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:16:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDiamondStar/pseuds/BlueDiamondStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this my very first Big Bang project I've taken part and pulled it off to this point.</p>
    </blockquote>





	FIC: SOMEWHERE UNDER THE TREES [PART 1]

**Author's Note:**

> So this my very first Big Bang project I've taken part and pulled it off to this point.

**Title:** Somewhwere Under The Trees

**Crossover** Fandom: N

**Characters/Pairings:** Peter B./Neal C./other team members

**Rating:** T

**Word Count:** 10k+

**Spoilers:** from all past seasons

**Warnings:** mentions of blood and injury, might be slightly graphic. nothing too much

**Summary:** _He's all alone now. Nothing but trees surrounding._  
 _Neal happens to get into trouble. This time there's no Peter to come and save him._  
 _But eventually he will. And that's not all... there's upcoming storm._  
 _What they don't know for sure is whether Neal's ran._

**Disclaimer:** I don't own White Collar, Jeff does. So I just borrow to play and put back later.

**Author's Note:** So this my very first Big Bang project I've taken part and pulled it off to this point.  
I gotta say thanks to my dream I had a long time ago that was basically what encouraged me to try to write it down and post it. Originally it's for another fandom and was much longer and I've put it down on paper to finish one day...  
For this particular story I took only the part with which it started and converted the original idea to this fandom.  
I have to say thanks to all who wished me luck with this and I hope y'all like my story..  
On a side note, I typed this all up on my phone and completely by myself. It's unbetaed so if there really are any glaringly evil mistakes either bear witn me or point out. I technically was pretty bleary eyed from 4am to 8am on saturday when I got my friend's pc all to myself and did major organization on this.  
And pardon if language has slipped, I'm from non-english country so don't mind...  
Enjoy! :)

**Art:** TBP

* * *

**~~~~~~wcwcwc~~~~~~**

**Chapter 1**

He ran like a mad man through all the woods. It was quite hard to keep on track, but somehow he managed to jolt through all the bushes. It was pretty painful and he was barely breathing, if at all.

Finally he reached civilization. There was a street. Luckily it was so early in the morning. He'd go unnoticed. Maybe not.

He nearly tripped over on his way out of the last treeline.

Moments later he was in front of the underground tunnel. But eventually there was something he didn't notice at first.

Stairs.

And it was way too late to slow down. He lost his footing over few steps and tripped over few other. Then it went downwards... He painfully rolled over, hitting the hard surface. After seconds he landed abruptly. Everything was spinning and his vision started to black out. But there was no time. He managed to scramble up and kept his run. Ib a flash he was over the street and closer to the bridge. Suddenly he straight-forwarded through another treeline on the right.

Half mile through vast line of trees there was a steep decline. It didn't seem too long or downwards, but then again, he was in great hurry and there was only little time for thinking or taking in the situation.

And much like any other time he let the things flow and dropped down the decline.

The sudden feel of flying, the stomach-tingling and limbs-tickling sensation of loosing footing was overwhelming for a moment or two. But quite too fast it came to abrupt stop. And pretty much with that it all went black...

**~~~wcwcwc~~~**

**Chapter 2**

It's pretty much overwhelming experience to wake up somewhere dark and hard-surfaced. And it was also pretty painful and frightening, too. And for once the great Neal Caffrey was left powerless.

Neal tried to make sense at first. The darkness was as discerning as it could, coupled with considerable amount of pain and general confusion.

He had no idea why he was lying on that hard, cold ground in absolute darkness, nor he could imagine why his body hurt so much. It would be explainable only by a heist gone bad or some other shenanigan running wildly off the planned track.

It took him quite a while to remember the cold ground wasn't a good thing and he ought to move in order to avoid catching cold, and that hardness of it either didn't mean good things.

So the young man tried to make his first move towards what he guessed should be painful but much needed to prevent more trouble than there were.

Of course, he didn't expect that the seemingly easy task would require more effort than that he hoped for.

And it most definitely didn't sit well with his current situation.

However, he had to try and move. Who knew where he was and if the backup was anywhere near, most likely not, he guessed. It usually wasn't and Neal was no stranger to that.

So he tried to move. His fingers first, then toes. It went well, as he hoped for. Nothing seemed hurting too much, albeit he wasn't sure if both sets of toes and fingers actually moved or it was just his imagination.

So he kept wiggling all his fingers and only after while something else registered in his somewhat sluggy mind- he was face-down on that hard and cold ground. Neal's cheek was brushing the solid surface and it made him only wonder harder about events that had eventually led to this strange outcome. He really could not get smarter, not in that moment.

After what felt like ten minutes, but in fact could be either much more or bit less the young con had come to conclusion - he was more injured than he had thought and possibly in lot more trouble than he anticipated. But it wasn't the worst realization. He also noticed the sounds. Ones that usually signalled it was nighttime in woods...

How on earth he had gotten from Manhattan to woods? How come he even wasn't in his room at June's? And where was Peter?

Only after that brief moment of panic Neal realized another tiny stumble in the very picture.

He was most definitely lacking his anklet.

Why? That he couldn't imagine. At least not that very moment.

So, putting off for moment his wonderings, Neal kept on with assessing his current condition.

His left ankle seemed bit more painful, so he assumed it had to sustain some sort of injury. But everything thing above felt fine. Until he managed to wiggle his left knee, and that spiked more pain. So that too must be injured somehow, decided the con.

Next he tried to move his other leg, and, while it seemed harder task, it notified Neal his right leg should be better condition than left. And boy, it was a considerable relief.

Then he moved on to his midsection. It proved to be much hared exercise. Appearantly being flat on his front showed some disadvantage when it came to moving about. And it made obvious that trying for deep breaths was quite a moot point.

He was stuck in this uncomfortable position until he would figure out how to move into more comfortable one.

After such discoveries Neal decided to take a little break from assessing his injuries. It was getting too exhausting and he knew it did no good to let himself tire out. After all he had no idea what had happened nor where he was, and even why. Already a clear sign of head injury, if the pain wasn't enough of an indicator.

After a moment Neal's dark clad head shot up. Although it seemed just a moment, a short moment at that, it could actually be much longer period of time. He really couldn't tell. He'd lost all the sense of time he had. It sucked but there really was nothing to help with it.

With a sigh he made the call... Next round of self check. He didn't feel rested so there was no way to tell if he'd gotten to sleep or not.

So he just started to wiggle his fingers. They felt fine, much like his wrists. And it felt same with middle part of his arms too. Well, until he made his left elbow move and got welcomed with sharp pain. Okay, he wasn't fine there, was yet another wise thought surfacing from the depths of his tangled mind.

But oh how he hoped it was just a bruise.

Then came more information. Above, the elbow and his shoulder, appeared free of pain, thankfully. He wouldn't appreciate more pain there too, leg was already enough.

So feltt neck and head.

The ex-con wasn't quite sure he wanted to do the rest of inspection. But he had to.

So he tried, and truly tried, to assess whether his neck was fine or not with extra caution. It was known fact that if you injured your neck better not to cause unnecessary injury or aggravate existing by making moves. So he did it as much careful as he could manage this way. Lying flat on ground truly made everything just more uncomfortable and inconvenient than usually. And he hated that.

But there was nothing else to do than just get over with and move on to other things.

Luckily his neck seemed intact and only somewhat stiff, that he really hard hoped to be just muscles protesting against the position he was lying.

So it left his head. But Neal had no idea how to get his arms move more than they already was. It was getting too frustrating of a task. But he had to do it. No other way. He had to know how bad he was before planning his next move.

But it felt like self torture. One he has to get done. And preferably before something even worse happened to him.

So with a huge effort Neal managed to toggle his right arm so it could bend and easily touch his head.

Since it was absolute darkness, and he did check that it was equally dark both-with eyes open and closed, he would have to suffice only with his sense of touch. It should work, it was indeed dry so shouldn't confuse any of his deductions.

_**Lost in the darkness** _  
_**Tried to find your way home** _  
_**I want to embrace you** _  
_**And never let you go** _

He managed to move his hand over the back of his head. It felt fine, at least nothing seemed out of shape nor felt wet, which was a good thing, considering the situation.

Though when Neal's trembling fingers skimmed over the left side of his head he felt it. Blinding white ache shot through his brain, paralyzing him for a moment, while the immediate pain dissipated. It took some time, though. Riding out a wave of pain while already being in considerable amount of pain wasn't a good feeling. And the reformed con artist had some former experience with pain, not all his alleged heists had gone hitchless. But he wasn't about to tell that to Peter and burst that bubble of mystery. He was, after all, the Great Neal Caffrey, man with many skills and amazing smoothness.

Yeah, like it was helping him now.

So for once he was sure, he had injured leg, elbow and head. All left side.

Now he wasn't sure what to do with this information. It was clear he needed to try and move, if not for injuries sake then at least to get more comfortable position, one that didn't make it feel like he was lying squeezed between rocks.

But moving seemed too much of an effort. However, it was must-do for the moment. Now he just had to gather all that shiny bubble of energy, he was known to be, and pull himself into somewhat less pressuring position.

Easier thought thatn done, Neal grimaced, though no one could see that, and pouted at the odds that seemed not to be in his favor this time, and pulled himself upwards with terrifyingly inhuman growl.

Short was the moment of victory, when he'd felt himself getting upright. Because next thing he registered was the feeling of floating and he was seeing something.

A vague shapes and sounds and something else, distinct but there.

Neal Caffrey had passed out without himself really realizing it. The dark had been too disorienting to tell.

Another reason for Neal to start disliking darkness.

**~~~~~ wcwcwc ~~~~~~**

**Chapter 3**

The darkness was too warm and pleasant for him to want to wake up but something was poking at him through the levels of unconsciousness, bringing him back to the land of awareness. He tried to make it longer but unfortunately it was too late to slip back. Something was pulling him out of the darkness and this something was seriously getting on Neal's nerves.

So the young man had no other option than to resurface from the dreamland.

And as much to his surprise Neal found bright light stabbing at his eyes through the closed lids.

_"What...?"_ Neal whispered to no one in particular. With a frown he slowly opened his eyes, despite it being painful.

Somehow during the sleep he had turned around and now was facing the too-happy sun, beating down on him with fierce, torturing rays. He tried not to be mad at it, sun was zillion miles away into space, it wasn't it's fault he was facing it while suffering from possible head injury. So it was just a piece of bad luck.

Well, a pretty huge piece.

So, after some time squinting at the too bright light, Neal's still dazed brain finally sent signal it was enough already, too long staring at sun wasn't considered healthy, so it was about time to look at something else and figure out how to solve the current situation.

One thing was clear- it was broad daylight, clear sky, no wind. So it meant trouble, that much Neal knew. He was already feeling his stomach unpleasantly empty. And he had no idea if he had eaten anything before... before something happened that made him end up in a place like this.

And wait up, his brain was sluggishly trying to piece this together now.

With a painful gasp Neal realized that he was indeed in the woods, as his eyes slid around to take in the scenery and some dots connected.

Woods. Hot days, warm nights. Animals. Insects. Danger.

Neal shivered even thinking about it. He didn't like it. He was a city boy after all. He wasn't supposed to roam any other jungle than the New York streets. He had to get away as soon as possible, preferably right at this moment.

But of course, it didn't happen.

The ex-con could only hope someone, preferably Peter will find him. Before bears came to eat him.

But he could only wish. In reality things weren't that hopeful at all. He was still injured. And still too weak to get up and about.

But he needed water, that much he had learned very early and it wasn't anything he wanted to repeat anytime. Apparently he still had not much of an option. He was alone.

And then his brain caught up. He WAS alone... or at least that was how it looked. Speaking of which.. Neal suddenly realized there was a rather large cliff beside him.

And it pretty much suggested a scenario he wasn't ready to accept, because even thinking about it made him nauseated, if he already wasn't. But the thought that he could be fallen from the cliff was rather unsettling and uncomfortably possible.

And Neal wasn't a fan of that possibility. It looked too high and, despite all his past adventures, he wasn't sure it was real even for him.

Moments later, when he managed to make himself turn away from cliff, he decided to check himself in the offered daylight.

The sight made him cringe.

His jeans (he noticed with wide eyes he wasn't dressed in a suit, like always) were all dirty and in ruins. They looked stylishly cut, he recalled, but now he knew he'll be throwing them out for good.

The next thing that came to sight (albeit bit blurry) was his left ankle. It was considerably swollen, so injured despite Neal's hopes, but what really caught his attention was the anklet. To the man's surprise it was still somehow attached. But it stood somewhat differently than usually. And then it hit (with quite a delay)- he had asked Peter to let it looser for one day. Not enough to slip off the foot, but loose enough to make it slide up and down. But at this moment of realization Neal couldn't recall why exactly he would be asking such thing.

But it had helped. Now in the bright sunlight he could see the real extent of the injury. And it made him wince.

The plastic device was thankfully out of the way for majority of swelling. And it wasn't ankle as he had thought while in the dark. In fact, it was actually his foot that was either broken or sprained (he really tried not to try think of it in details). The ankle monitor, or what was left of it, was well above his ankle, enough so it wouldn't immediately pressure the injury therefore causing terrible pain and more discomfort than he already had. Neal sighed in relief.

So now he just had to figure out his next move. Now that he knew his only connection with what he still believed was reality was still attached to his ankle like for the past couple years. For some or other reason it made Neal attached. To reality. To Peter. His life in New York. Future.

Strange it was, how such an offending piece of plastic could affect someone who wasn't one to get attached to anything.

Maybe he was changed more than he ever expected from himself. After all he was a con man. Convicted felon. A criminal. He got caught and leashed. Then why it felt so good now? When it felt like something very bad in the beginning when his deal was only a mean to find Kate. Back then it seemed simple. No attachments. No feelings. Nothing. Just calculated con to get free and then disappear when everything's done.

Then why now he felt like this was his savior? Why it made him feel so secure? So connected?

Neal couldn't provide any better answer than one he had told Peter few times before.

And there probably wasn't any better.

Neal finally had something good in his life to hang to. And he had been so close to loose it. On the island.

He was so scared when Collins aimed the gun at him. It wasn't the bullet that hurt. It was the fear and sadness of loosing something he held dear and that promised something good for his future.

He had hoped to be free man. Deep down Neal had been hopeful about the outcome of his hearing.

But it ended up with him on the run and later with a bullet in his leg and anger towards Kramer. But he had felt extreme relief and joy when Peter had draped his arms around his shoulders in a tight, loving hug. It was the moment when he had fought tears.

Even remembering made his eyes feel watery, and it had nothing to do with pain from his injuries.

Since when he'd become so emotional Neal couldn't tell, but the young man knew Peter will come and save him. That's what he relied upon.

After the moment of memories Neal made effort to return to reality. For his unguarded surprise it had taken quite a while. At least according to his watch.

Well, he'd lost time before too.

But suddenly Neal's mind refused to switch back to reality. He knew the whole situation had to be addressed immediately since he still needed to assess his injuries while it was daylight. But obviously his jumbled brain couldn't make all the right connections. So now his mind kept wandering around some old memories and random thoughts.

For some strange reason the young man was missing Peter's car. He always was messing with the radio and Peter kept smacking at his hands like Neal was some annoying child up to some mischief. But he had no idea why he kept doing that. Just like he didn't know why he always run from things.

_"Oh, stop it Caffrey, you're pathetic fool right now."_ Neal told himself, uncharacteristically.

Okay, he was now talking to himself. Not even prison could do that, he shook his head immediately regretting the movement as it caused pain shooting through his brain. His vision blurred and dark spots started to swim before his eyes. Not a good thing, he managed to realize before darkness engulfed the injured man.

**~~~~wcwcwc~~~~**

**Chapter 4**

At first he couldn't tell what was going on. It was cold and wet. Something was touching his face and he felt ticklish. Not yet dark but already not quite easy to see.

And he was frightened. His heart tried to beat its way out of his chest. And it hurt. Everything was spinning and some weird noises were making their way through the haze.

He wanted to run and never look back, but he couldn't. World had turned all grey and suddenly he was somewhere else...

He was back on that island. Back in the cage with Collins aiming his gun at Neal and shooting him in leg.

_"No!"_

He woke with a start. Breathing fast and hard.

Was it a dream? He asked himself. But of course, what else?

Looking around he still saw the same forrest. Trees and bushes, grass and same squirrels that were there before.

Nothing had changed. And won't if he didn't start doing anything about it.

But what?

It was actually a late afternoon, so what had been he saw probably counted as a nightmare. Not that he was loosing it already.

So it was time to get moving, Neal decided.

With that he took another look at his ankle. It still looked bad. Swollen and blue.

Not a pretty sight, but he's seen worse.

The anklet still were relatively loose so no imminent danger from it.

He then looked at his knee. Thankfully his jeans were already cut open so he could peek at it without fuss.

The knee too was swollen, but not that badly. So it meant it most likely was just a bad bruise.

Neal heaved a relieved sigh.

So at least he'll have only ankle as the major trouble.

He glanced at his left arm. Seeing his bluishly swollen elbow made his already queasy stomach churn.

Ok, well, maybe after his past injuries he should've been more accustomed to these sights. But in reality he felt like tossing proverbial cookies. Which Neal, hesitantly, did.

After composing himself once more the young man heaved another, heart-wrenching sigh and dared another hesitant look.

This time he managed to look all the way. Even his brain clicked back and produced the clear analysis of the condition his elbow could be. Most likely it was bad sprain. At least according to what he had learned about such things from when he had dislocated his arm (very same) for a heist. It hadn't been nice two hours being stuck in a ventilation shaft, but it brought them (him and Mozzie) enough money to survive for time that took Neal to recover from his shoulder injury.

Thankfully his shoulder seemed fine this time.

By the time he was about to start trying to assess his head injury and address possible rib fractures, or less horrific bruises, the sun had considerably sunken. The woods around weren't as dark but he could see the dark looming from between the trees further away.

There actually was a tree near him, as it turned out, but he was still underneath the wide opening in the trees surrounding and above was only clear sky. However, and he hoped rather not, in case of a rain he had enough of lower bushes and that same tree bit away. So at least that was clear.

But it also turned out this assessment had taken time enough to let sun nearly disappear completely, turning everything in a soft glow and dimming down the general illumination.

Neal gingerly touched his face with his good hand. It came away dirty and Neal winced. He now imagined his face covered in dirt. He needed water. And fast.

Not only for the clean up, he suddenly felt terribly thirsty and the occasional growl from his stomach made it clear he was still in danger.

And so he took a deep breath and slid his fingers where he'd felt the blinding pain previously. This time it hurt less where his head sported a rather uncomfortable gash that, according to Neal's wavering judgment, was indeed deep and still slightly wet, but it didn't seem bleeding too much or otherwise than a bit wetness. And he could feel couple bumps near the gash. And after some more touching around Neal discovered there should be quite a shiner on his cheek and along jaw. So it had been a fall from that cliff- Neal's brain did the math before wandering back to twilight zone. He wanted so badly just to run around screaming and smashing things, instead all he could afford was lie there stiffly and growl like a bear. Speaking of which... he hoped weren't there to eat him.

As he lay there, there was sudden moisture trickling down his cheeks. At first he wasn't sure what that was, but then his uninjured hand trailed his fingers over his cheek.

Tears.

He had tears rolling down his cheeks.

Neal couldn't believe. He never cried. Another surprise.

He was lately surprising himself. At least compared to how he was years ago, before prison, before Peter.

Back then he was just a kid. Someone who believed the score of life and island of paradise. He was changed. A lot. Since Kate.

Since he met Peter.

He sniffled. And grimaced.

Who was he? Was he now something he'd always feared to become because he always wanted to be that carefree con man who could do unimaginable things and never get caught?

Probably. Well, yes.

He always believed himself to be that way all his life.

But that was before Kate. Before Adler.

God! How naive he'd been.

He'd been such a fool. Moz was right, happily ever after truly doesn't exist.

But what does?

He had no answers, just silly questions without answers. Without hope to be answered.

He was changed. Who was he?

Was he still at least a bit of that man he used to be? The hopeful opportunist who arrived in New York? God, he so hoped he was. Because that meant he wasn't completely lost. That there still was a sliver of his old self. Somewhere. Deep down.

He frowned as the spike of pain made its way through his skull as it was a drill. Was that how a sidewalk felt when the asphalt got ripped off it by the huge, mean machine with a noise so angry? He assumed it had to be.

Suddenly he felt terribly tired. Despite all the noises the forest offered. The wave of exhaustion took over and Neal let the darkness drown all the world around.

**~~~~~~wcwcwc~~~~~~~**  
  


**TO PART 2** <http://marissaangell.livejournal.com/10069.html>


End file.
